Tuesday, 18 March 2014

After spending last year's event in the front seat of a lead car, I got the opportunity to take part in this year's Cape Rouleur as a Ride Captain. That's like the guy who drives the luggage van at the airport being promoted to pilot and told to have fun, while being responsible for the safety of all the passengers. A tall order, but one that I looked forward to. My first order of business in my new found position was to meet my fellow co-pilots - Flash, Captain and DT, and then the people we'd be sharing the road with over the next couple of days.

As the riders slowly trickled into Franschhoek, a sense of nervous excitement started to build. Many of the riders had endured some rather damp and soggy hours in the saddle during the recent inclement European winter, in the hope of arriving in South Africa with some semblance of form, and were eager to measure their progress against their fellow competitors. The tell tale sign as to a rider's origin was the colour of their skin, with the pasty, pallid Europeans sticking out like sore thumbs.

To seed the 150 riders into their appropriate groups based on ability, the Cape Rouleur starts with a rather vicious 7km time trial. And to make the Europeans feel slightly more at home, the heavens had opened just before the scheduled start. With the locals wearing all the kit they owned in a bid to stay warm and dry, and the Northerners running around like ducks in the rain, the riders set off in batches on the out and back course, in order to set a time that would determine their fate for the next couple of days. Ride too fast and you'd spend 3 days rubbing shoulders with the racing snakes, biting down on handlebar tape and chasing wheels, while if you took it too slowly you'd get the scenic option and be in contention for the "Most Cycling" award. Get the speed just right and you'd end up in the Goldilocks group - Group 2 - the social racers' group. We'd race hard, but get plenty of opportunity to look around and enjoy the magnificent surrounds of the Western Cape.

Lovely weather for ducks

With the time trial behind us, Group 2 lined up on Monday morning in the streets of Franschhoek, a rather diverse collection of riders. We had bankers and orthopaedic surgeons, cricketers and celebrity chefs, and lots of people "involved" in private equity. We also had the honour of hosting the racing ladies, which not only upped the level of competition in the group, but also made Group 2 the best looking group out on the road. The riders of Group Two also had a wide range of skill levels, ranging from the seasoned veterans, to the and complete novices, and all those in between. Yet this didn't seem to matter as today we were cycling companions, united by our common passion of sleek, two wheeled, racing machines.

Those Magnificent Men (and Women) and their Racing Machines

Stage One was a warm up, both in terms of riding as well as the scenery, as we eased into the routine of the coming days. A nice long roll out of town at a comfortable conversational pace, followed by 20kms of helter skelter lung burning racing, before returning to the more sensible pace for the trip back home. All this was interrupted by a very civilised lunch stop each day to refuel the legs and chat about the stage so far. Gentleman (and gentlewoman) racing at its best. The added bonus being that we did all this with rolling road closure in a safe and controlled environment, managed and organised by the very capable ThinkBike marshals (aka Our Guardian Angels).

Some of the ThinkBike Marshals that kept us safe, along with Stephen Roche

While the wind caused some havoc during Stage One, there was another silent assassin that was stealthily creeping through the peloton, causing chaos, panic and confusion wherever it struck. A particularly potent version of Gastroenteritis was doing the rounds, and no one was safe. Toilet paper became a valued commodity, being traded in dark corners and shady locations, and it wasn't unusual to see riders carrying their own supply of baby wipes in their jersey pockets with a rather concentrated look on their faces.

Stage Two dawned with the mountain goats licking their lips - we were leaving behind the flat lands of the Swartland, and heading into the hills. Those that had avoided The Plague so far were in for a tough day out, with 3 big climbs to look forward to, and some rather spectacular Overberg scenery to distract them. After only one day of riding, the changes in Group 2 were quite visible too. The riders were more confident and more cohesive - working as a well oiled machine as we ticked off the miles. The nervousness and uncertainty of the previous day a thing of the past. As further testament to our Goldilocks status, Stephen Roche had decided to ride with us. If ever there was an opportunity to learn how to ride a bike, now was the chance.

Group Two Ride Captains taking a breather

Once again, the racing ladies didn't disappoint in the timed section, which set everything up for a very interesting final stage. Up front, our new resident Triple Crown winner was mixing it with the best Group 2 had to offer, and despite carrying a few extra winter kilos (much like Flash, our pregnant Ride Captain), Stephen's skill, power and agility were on display for all to watch - if you could keep up. After regrouping, catching our breath, and stocking up on fluid, we had one more challenge for the day - rolling into Franschhoek ahead of Group 1. The only thing standing in our way was Franschhoek Pass - a 7.6km climb at an average gradient of 5%. With determination and sheer will power, each and every rider in Group 2 turned themselves inside out to get up that climb as quickly as possible. Being the first group to roll into Franschhoek made it all worth it, bragging rights, Häagen-Dazs ice cream and cold beer being our reward.

With the cycling over, it was time for the post race feast

Stage Three was the queen stage - a monster 208km stage again finishing with a climb up Franschhoek Pass. The day started with a scenic sunrise ride through the winelands of Stellenbosch to one of the most beautiful roads in the Western Cape, the road from Gordon's Bay to Rooi Els, before giving everybody one last chance to race. The ladies racing was down to the wire, with several speedy women still vying for top honours - a handful of seconds separating the top contenders. With one kilometre to go in the timed section there was still everything to race for, when, in the blink of an eye there was a touch of wheels, a blood curdling yell, and the smell of burning brakes. Two riders went down in the chaos, one rather seriously. In a display of bravery that will leave most men cringing, Genelle did a quick survey of the damage - phone, bike, body - in that order, without once wincing or flinching.

After a welcome lunch break at Arabella Golf Estate which saw the medics working overtime, we were off - the remaining 80kms of the 2014 Cape Rouleur ahead of us. We'd all switched into survival mode, ticking off the kilometres one by one, whilst doing our best to enjoy what was left of the stage. Things weren't all bad, as there was still a constant buzz of chatter, a sign that while the bodies might be tired and sore, the riders were still having a good time under the African sun. One last time over Franschhoek Pass, a speedy descent and the finish line awaited the men and women of Group Two. We'd survived an amazing adventure on the roads of the Western Cape, enduring some diverse weather conditions and The Plague, enjoying the scenery and the company of the riders around us. We started off as fifty-something nervous bike riders, but ended as fifty-something accomplished cyclists, united in conquering the 2014 Cape Rouleur.

A gaggle of Ride Captains

A big thank you to all the crew who worked tirelessly to make this a special event, to the other Ride Captains for showing me the ropes - DT, Captain and Flash - I hope my piloting skills were ok for a baggage handler, and to all the guys and girls that made Group Two the Goldilocks group - thank you all for reminding us what a beautiful country we live in and for sharing 600kms of bicycling heaven. I hope to see everyone again at the next HotChillee event.

Some of the very capable crew that looked after all of us

Wednesday, 12 March 2014

After my rather disappointing 24hr effort, I was left with the feeling that the season would slip by and I would be left with out a defining highlight. When I read about the antics of Richie Porte and Cam Wurf I just knew this was the redemption I was seeking. An epic adventure. A ridiculous all day ride. And I wanted to do it with someone. Finding someone who would ride with me on something like this excluded just about everyone that I know, except Captain Craig. If there is one guy that likes spending vast amounts of time on a bike almost as much as me, it's him.

Once we had agreed on doing something truly monumental, we had to iron out the details. What exactly would a monumental ride be for us "normal" guys (the mere fact that we were discussing this precluded us from being called normal)? Richie and Cam had done 403kms, but they are professional bike riders, so we settled on 250kms as a starting point. But that just didn't sound monumental. That would be tough, and hardcore, but we've 250kms before. We had to go further. It had to be over 300kms, and the thinking was that if we're going to go that far, why not go a little bit further. The furtherest I have ridden in one outing is 355kms, twice, at 24hr events. We had to top that. So we settled on 356+kms.

Captain Craig came up with a route, starting at my house and finishing at his house, and going through 11 towns around the Western Cape, over 5 passes, and through some of the most scenic countryside the Western Cape has to offer.

With the route organised we just had to find a day worthy of our endeavour. Scanning the long term forecasts on WindGuru and yr.no we spotted a likely candidate. A Wednesday with almost no wind, and a maximum temperature of 35 in the shade. We had our epic route, and an epic day to match.

At 5:44 we set off, not too sure if we would reach our goal, but keen to enjoy a day out on the bike where heart rate zones and Strava segments didn't matter. Riding bikes for the sake of riding bikes. Almost immediately we were struck by the realisation that 356kms is a long long way. An hour in and we were less than 10% of the way. Very quickly our approach changed from knocking off the miles to achieving mini targets - top of a climb, the next town, a coke stop etc. The less we thought about the kilometres, the quicker they passed us by, and with the beautiful scenery all around us to distract us, this was rather easy.

Almost immediately, we realised that WindGuru might have been lying to us. We had been promised a near windless day, yet we were toiling into a stiff headwind as we made our way from Stellenbosch to Franschoek. The wind got worse as we started the ascent of the Franschoek Pass, and for a brief moment we considered changing our route (and effectively wimping out). After careful consideration to Rule 5 we persevered on with the original plan.

Our first stop of the day was in Villiersdorp for a top up of water, after 86kms of riding. So far it felt like every other ride, we were still well within our comfort zones, and despite the horrid head wind, we were having a good time. We were already riding on virgin roads - although we had previously ridden in the area a few times during the Cape Epic. Before long we had knocked up 100km, and just like that, the wind dropped. The depressing part was the realisation that we still weren't even a third of the way into our big ride.

Our next stop was in Worcester, 140kms in, which on it's own would be good day's outing. When comparing it to what we still had to do, it seemed like a warm up ride. By now we were starting to feel the heat, as it picked up over 30C for the first time. Some coke and snacks in the air-conditioned comfort of the Shell Ultra City gave us a brief respite, before we set off to tackle the remaining 210kms.

By now we were riding from town to town, coke stop to coke stop, slowly accumulating kilometres. The scenery and surrounds became more important than the average speed and heart rate zone. We hit the bottom of Bainskloof after 6 hours of riding, with the temperatures in the high 30s. The sparkling water in the river below, much like the Sirens, were speaking to Captain Craig, luring him in with promises of relief from the heat. And much like Jason, we resisted - we had our journey to complete.

The relief of reaching the top of the climb was twofold - not only had we done most of the climbing for the day, we had also crossed the halfway mark. It's quite amazing to realise the psychological impact little milestones like this have. We were now homeward bound. And our first order of business was to stop for lunch in Wellington after enjoying the descent off Bainskloof. Nothing better than a Gatsby, a chocolate SteriStumpi, and a coke.

The temperature was now above 40C and still climbing, and if Captain Craig has one weakness on a bike (apart from descending - apparently), it's the heat. And since I'd asked him to come along on this ride, I felt I owed it to him to make sure he survived. That's the level we had dropped to - survival. One pedal stroke after the next. We were now no longer riding side by side and chatting, it was a return to our familiar Epic position of me on the front, and Craig behind, riding a steady tempo.

On the stretch from Wellington to Malmesbury we began to realise just what we'd gotten ourselves into. The water in our water bottles was like tea, our mouths were constantly dry, and the sun was baking down on our backs. We felt like chickens in a convection oven, the heat radiating off the tar and cooking us from below. By some miracle, we stopped at a wine farm before attempting Bothmanskloof Pass for Captain Craig to cool down, and for us to refill the water bottles. I turned my back for a second, only to be greeted with Captain Craig practically lying under a tap and dousing himself in water. After clearing my throat several times, and looking longingly at the hill, he reluctantly got the hint that we actually needed to continue on our ride. With bottles filled and core temperatures chilled, we set off to tackle the climb.

And about a kilometre later we found ourselves standing on the side of the road in 47C heat fixing a puncture. You might be able to spot a bit of grumpiness on Captain Craig's face ;)
With the puncture fixed, we made it to the top of the climb with a mere 125kms to go. Fifteen kilometres later and we made Malmesbury - a little later than planned - and had another welcome coke break.

Despite having done 240kms, the section of road the I loathe and fear the most in the Western Cape still awaited us - the soul destroying strip of tar from Malmesbury to Durbanville. There isn't one outstanding reason why I detest this road so much, but it is the sum of several small factors that work together to make this road The Highway to Hell. The surface is rough and uneven. It's a gentle drag uphill for most of the way. It's pretty much dead straight. It's directly into the prevailing wind. And there is absolutely nothing of interest to look at. If there was one stretch of road that could derail the big day out, this was it. But we hadn't come this far to let some road get the better of us. It took us an hour to do 25kms, and another hour to do the next 20kms, and in the process we gave up on 356+km. We were just too shattered and short on time that we opted for a short cut. Without that short cut, we would have had to call off the rest of the ride.

300km up, didn't think I'd make it this far 50km ago, thanks @velotales for doing all the work on the front
— Craig Edwards (@captaincraigSA) February 26, 2014

And just like he always does, Captain Craig came good as my legs started to protest by violently cramping. The only positive was that the nausea I was feeling from drinking too much coke was no longer my biggest issue. As we left Durbanville behind, the wind dropped and the sun dipped towards the horizon. It really was quite magical. With Table Mountain now almost within touching distance, we set off towards Blouberg and the Bike Path (people around here refer to it as if it is the only bike path), and our way to get through the tangle that is Cape Town's roads. We got onto the Bike Path, and I felt a change - my legs seemed to revive a little, and our mood lifted. Suddenly, we weren't riding a 356+km ride any more, we were just riding. In the City. On bikes. With all sorts of other people out and about exercising and enjoying the very best that the Cape has to offer. We wound our way through the City, and out towards Captain Craig's house.

We didn't quite achieve our intended goal of 356+kms. We did something more. We had an amazing day out, riding bikes because we can, and enjoying the very best that the Western Cape has to offer. We saw some amazing scenery, shared the road with some courteous and considerate drivers, and watched ordinary people go about their business, all from the comfort of our saddles.